Bloody Valentines
by aromanticnightunderstarryskies
Summary: Give me your heart, valentine.


**Bloody Valentine**

**Brief Warning: **Really, really small amounts of gore. Like almost ketchup. Don't punch me.

* * *

You don't want him to hate you. You love him, but perhaps, you realize, he does not love you. The information is shocking, but at the same time you have never felt so at peace with yourself. You know he wouldn't love you the way you love him. Mao. Sometimes so feel so confused, yet you feel oddly _happy_. You feel so happy you could cry. You aren't angry of sad, just _confused_. Confused and _happy._

You watch him in his sleep. You quietly go into his room, unannounced. If it were morning, you'd knock on the door until he let you in. That's how it worked between the two of you. For hours you would wait at the tiny corner of his bed and stare at him.

You mind drifts into memories when you watch him, and it is an addictive feeling. You remember your friendship with him when you were younger. Your rivalry with him when the sweetness of childhood were swept away. Memories of holding hands and going on adventures were shoved into the depths of your heart. It is the only thing in your heart vault. Innocent eyes and sweet smiles were replaced with a cold stare and intense hostility.

The last thing you think about when you stare at Mao is your love for him. You loved him for a long time. However, you only found out yourself just recently. But the urge to be with him, to be closer to him; to love him and be loved by him; you couldn't stand to be away. You say to yourself that you are content with his friendship. At least, what you consider to be a friendship.

He's grown colder towards you. You hated him for that. You hate Mao every time he pushes you away. Sometimes you see him hanging around with his servants (friends). And for once, you aren't happy that Mao has friends. You are furious when you realize that Mao wants companionship, and and love, but not from you. You take the smallest steps towards him and he jumps ten paces back. That hurts you. Mao hurts you.

**xx**

You see Mao is nervous. He regularly looks over his shoulder. You suspect it's to see if anyone is following him. You feel guilty about his paranoia. At least, you want to feel guilty. You asked is there was anything wrong. There was something strange in his eyes, but you think it's fear. His pupils dilated and his breath hitched. "I think someone is following me, Beryl."

He says he found evidence that someone had been in his room. That–stalker was in his bed and Mao knows that the creep was there, but when he wakes up, the no one is there. He locked up everything in his room after that conversation. The windows were boarded, the doors were nailed shut. He plugged up every single crack or hole in his room.

He trusted you with the only spare key. He trusted you a bit more than Almaz, or Sapphire. Mr. Champloo hardly ever came by. Mao wanted you to bring him food and check up on him everyday. You realized that he wasn't acting like himself at all. Fear could really change a person, you muse.

You really want to feel guilty about it. But you know you absolutely love the thrill of **Mao**, showing **his** emotions. And to you, the one person he makes sure doesn't see his _bad_ side (his delinquent side, his caring side) this means a lot. You can't help but feel giddy when he looks at you with that expression of fear. There is something else there, you think, but you can't tell. One day, you tell him, "Don't be scared, Mao."

He says he was never scared, and for you to leave him alone. So you do.

"Did you know I was the stalker, Mao?" You asked him in his sleep. You have tried to stop. It's not right, somehow. Whatever you are doing isn't right, but it's addicting. Like sweets or drugs. Mao's face is relaxed. He looks more pale than ever; he looks positively ill. Like death. You think he looks better, sick and all. You love him.

Xx

Mao is tense when you bring him breakfast in the morning. No one else is allowed in his room anymore (_and this comforts you_). It's only you who comes in and out. Mao is always looking at the corner of the bed. His face is hard and lifeless. It's only when you gently coax him, and call his name softy 'Mao', he snaps out of his daze. Sometimes you spend the night with him. You really don't mind. Those days, you don't hang around the corner of his bed.

Mao pulls you in bed with him, and it feels like he and you were children again. The Netherworld seemed so big and you both were smaller, and you both promised to be together forever. Mao's smile is sweeter, and his laugh is so lively, but his eyes are so dull and his voice cracks whenever he speaks. You love him so much, and he makes you so happy you want to cry, and you know he doesn't love you, but having him give you that smile was enough. You don't see the emotions stirring in his eyes or the change in his voice. This was enough.

One day, Mao took your hand and thrived in the contact, but he asks you a strange question. At first you don't hear him, out of shock (out of pleasure?) "Are you the one who's been following me?" He was always a clever boy. The tone of his voice shifts to one of anger. He glared at you. You're shaking a lot, and your knees feel weak, but you don't do anything.

He is shaking too, you realized. The look of fear you have gotten used to is being directed at you. The fear that was always in his eyes, the fear that lingered even it the phantom wasn't present; all that fear, was directed at _you._

You look down in shame, in anger. But you love him. You're so happy that he found out about you and your bad ways. You're happy that he'll probably hate you forever, and won't even look at you. You don't mind at all because looking at Mao is painful. You're so happy, you cry. You want Mao, and no one else. You want Mao to be taken care of, by you, of course. You don't care if he doesn't love you. This is... enough.

You feel so confused because demons don't love. Demons don't have the passion to fall in love. Demons have an instinct to fight if they must, to be impulsive and jealous. The only passion they had was for violence. But you have the passion of a lover, yet the instinct of a demon. So when Mao grips your wrist a little too roughly, you act. Sometimes, you wish you could just hug him and kiss him, but such actions were too _human._

You do what your guts tell you to do. You have a lot of passion and now way to use it, and your demon impulses corrupt your logic. You wear this cover of "good" but you've always been bad. You've always thought of love too. And by now you've realized you're absolutely mad, and should be locked up. You want nothing more than Mao's heart with yours so it's what you'll fight for.

Mao tugged your wrist and he's spitting out questions like no tomorrow. His eyes are frantic and his breathing is all messed up, but you just want him to be closer and closer until it's physically impossible to be torn apart. You press a ear to his chest, and surprisingly he stops thrashing. He's shocked, and upset,and you know that he wants answers from you.

If Mao wanted to, by now he could have killed her. But he didn't. He could have pushed her away. But he didn't. He is still, and his heart is beating so fast, and you have this strange urge to ask him is it because of you.

You press your hand gently on his chest; right on top of his heart. Slowly, you claw in and blood begins to seep out. You look at him, but he doesn't appear to mind. Mao looks almost fascinated with his bleeding chest. As you continue to break through the cloth and skin, he says," I've always known it was you who followed me."

"Hmm?" you reply casually. Your tone is too normal, and this situation is so strange, but somehow the circumstances fit. This is very normal you think as Mao's bleeding increased. He didn't sound like he was hurting so you continue picking at the flesh.

"I pretended I was scared you know; there is no way I'd be scared of you." He nuzzles against your shoulder and you could feel the blood dropping onto you. He breathes out a long sigh, and you can't help but shudder.

"You're like me. I know my calculations can't be wrong," he states. You reach into his chest, and rip out his heart. He covers the pain he feels but you know it hurts giving your heart away. Before your demon instincts could kick in, he grabs the small organ from your tiny hands. In the same fashion, be begins clawing into your chest; right where the heart would be located.

He has no mercy when he digs into your skin. Into your flesh. When he sees he could get a grip onto your heart, he pulls it out greedily. They were covered in each others blood, but they couldn't care less.

You smile at him gleefully, and he returns the sentiment. You feel a sharp pain in your chest, but it was because you were so happy. You were so happy, you were crying. He hands you his heart, and you stare at yours. Knowing what to do, you take his heart, and he took yours and you both swallowed.

"Stay with me forever," he says. " Every time I saw you, I wanted to lock you up from the world. I wanted to kidnap you in your sleep and take you to the heart bank so you could stay with me forever.

"I wanted you for a long time. I just woke up one day and thought, 'I want Beryl.' But I didn't know why. Then, you, stupid fool, showed up at the corner of my bed, looking so vulnerable. I hated you so much, Beryl. I hate you so much."

The boy is full of surprises, you think. And even more surprising is how he pulls you into a kiss, a bloody and messy and not sanitary kiss. Your heart is beating fast, but your heart is in Mao, his was with you and you feel alive. The blood is all over the room, and their trying to catch their breaths. There are bruises all over there lips and some around your arm, but you're happy. You feel as if this was always meant to be. "You can't leave me Beryl, I'll kill you."

You know he is speaking only the truth so you reply," As will I. If you leave me, I'll kill you too." Love you, bloody valentine.

* * *

**A/N:** Always wanted to do this. Like literally giving your heart to someone. That's hardcore. And apologizes of being OOC, couldn't help it. I love Raspberyl more evil than she really is. I also adore possessive Mao. I also like fucked up Valentines Day fics. Don't forget to drop by for a review? What did you like? What did you hate?

Happy Valentines Day!


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